Rosemary C. Wilkinson

This Is The Moment

This is the moment
when I see the dull sky
sprinkle pure white flakes
bending ponderosa pines fifty feet tall
creating a dripping "in tune"
as the sun shines through.
I smell the clean air, inhaling deep
within me, as I touch covered leaves
of flowers frozen, no longer to breathe
fragrance stifled by cleansing thereof,
imbuing soft stillness, I feel,
bringing peace within.

Giovanna Mulas

Heathen Chant

Of nectar (the moss)
that bacchanal perfume's
lips are made, beauty
and the raised choruses of mine,
sensual, blithe.
Like algae, odorous,
glaucous you emerge, dive again
(labyrinths are those brave ones)
and now—aye—you part the hair
the skin demands.
mine you respond,
docile you are.

Adam Donaldson Powell

After The Rapture

Spent, sweaty and out-of-breath
We lay back and
Light a single cigarette
To be shared in symbolic
Celebration after an intergalactic
Battle between brazen faith and
Foolish adventure.
My tattered wings clumsily
Tucked in between my back
And the thin Styrofoam mattress;
Your head buried in my chest
And your matted hair still wet from
Our midnight dip in the Styx.
Who would have guessed that
The heaven of our making
Would be like this? .. so
Characterized by the mundane,
With intermittent interruptions
Of surrealistic struggles for
Survival: win or lose .. all
Or nothing .. one day at a time.
As the moon eclipses the last
Sight I see before I drift off
Is the withered bonsai in the
Opening of our pre-war dwelling.
A reminder of a time when
We still dared to sleep soundly;
Carefully wrapped in unencumbered
Dreams in the style of our ancestors.

Uzeyir Lokman Cayci

I Was In These Pages

Without making you feel at all
In lands very distant from you
I raised flowers which you like
I know
I left you by yourself
With unforgettable memories...

Every so often
You felt uneasy
Because of my badly digested words
You stayed sleepless...
During successive days
I dragged you towards mornings without a sun
I was in these pages.

I hurt you with touching songs which I liked
I touched you with my poems
Again and again, I drenched you
With my feelings...
I was in these pages.

I often took you for walks
On the most populated streets
Of Istanbul
With your heart beating
Your beliefs and acknowledgments moulded time
Behind blurred window panes...
I was in these pages.

The sky was different
Light was acid
Avenues were without people
Streets were without soul
When I lost you
In the stopping of a bus...
I was in these pages.

I made you wait until mornings
On the streets of Istanbul
I made you tremble in full jolts while you dreamed
During your sighs I threw your shades
Into seas
On blank pages I wrote that I love you...
I made your drawings
On all the walls of the city...
I was in these pages.

Konstantin Kedrov

Computer Of Love

Heaven is the width of a look
A look is the depth of heaven
Pain is the touch of God
God is the touch of pain
Dream is the width of a soul
Soul is the depth of a dream
Light is the voice of silence
Silence is the voice of light
Darkness is the cry of shining
Shining is the silence of darkness
Rainbow is the gladness of light
An idea is the dumbness of the soul
Soul is an idea undraped
Light is the depth of knowledge
Knowledge is the height of light
A steed is an animal of space
A cat is an animal of time
Time is space curled into a ball
Space is jump of a steed
Sun is the body of moon
A body is the moon of love
A ship is wave of metal
Water is the ship of wave
Sorrow is the emptiness of space
Gladness is the completeness of time
Time is the sorrow of space
Space is the completeness of time
A man is the heaven turned inside out
A woman is the man turned inside out
A man is the woman turned inside out
A heaven is the man turned inside out
A touch is the space of a man
Love is the touch of infinity
The eternal life is the moment of love
A sail-ship is the computer of memory
Memory is the sail-ship of computer
Poetry is the time of a thief
A poet is the thief of time
Sea is the space of moon
Moon is the time of sun
Time is the moon of space
Stars are the voices of a night
Voices are the stars of a day
A ship is the quay of the whole ocean
Ocean is the quay of the ship
A skin is the drawing of constellation
Constellation is the drawing of the skin
Christ is the sun of Buddha
Buddha is the moon of Christ
The time of sun can be measured by the moon of space
Space of moon is the time of sun
The horizon is the width of a look
A look is the width of the horizon
Height is the border of vision
A palm is a boat for a bride
A bride is a boat in a palm
A camel is a ship of desert
Desert is a camel's ship
Beauty is the hate for death
The hate for death is a beauty
The constellation Orion is a sword of love
Love is the sword of the constellation Orion
The Little Dipper is the space of the Big Dipper
The Big Dipper is the time of Little Dipper
A look is the width of heaven
Heaven is the height of a look
A thought is the depth of a night
Night is the width a thought
The Galaxy is the way to the moon
Moon is the developed Galaxy
Every star is the pleasures of the flesh
Erotics is all stars
Space between stars is the time without love
People are the bridges between stars
Bridges are stars between people
Passion is flying
Flying is the continuation of passion
Voice is a jump of one to another
A friend is the understanding of cry
The distance between people is full of stars
The distance of stars is full of people.

Maria Cristina Azcona

A Shady City

Relentlessly… acid rain…

is falling continuously…

(It had been rain some day).

Street….Never lonely, shadows and

So, so…shady shows, shadowy

Muddy human souls, cruel crowds,
empty bowls, hands, Smoke and fuel
that provoke wars.

Smokes of glory, empty of principles.

A hollow, a show, a shadow and a
bare plate.

Empty of glory, fin secular hands.

Drugs and scare, violet violence

On violet dreams.

Abrupt, interrupt, disrupt, sudden,

a hundred feet insect falls under a

Tongue on Tango. Argot of the dirty

The city of the dirty money. A dirty

There’s a muddy injure in his small

Scuff, ouch, it hurts, a pain restrains

Why me? No bread, no brotherhood,
no breath…

In the middle of the muddy rubbish,
Only dreams of glory.

In the muddy city in an empty world,

I am the child, the baby,

A rabbit,

A bit.

G. Mend -Ooyo

The Moon Over An Old Temple

From behind the temple the moon is ascending.
Buddha's ancient aureole gleams on the shiny top.
From a bamboo flute a lonely tune flows suspiring:
Nostalgic linger of a melancholic, wagging heart!

Wild grass sprouts in the slit of the stairway stones
Along the road that leads to the golden-lit Buddha!
The image of Buddha is getting clearer and clearer.
The Living Buddha's yard is hard to see the starlight.

From behind the temple the moon is ascending.
Buddha's suavely sieving evening twilight and
The grave, sad tune of the flute confer solace
To the pilgrims, who come from back of beyond!

Simple alcoves, old scrolls of painted characters!
It's a heavenly renewed temple filled with mystery
The silhouettes reflect the people's world in deep
Pondering to become like Buddha's shiny heart!

Whatever you want, just show off looking at Buddha's
Image, where the cross-legged Buddha sits abidingly.
Let the heavenly bamboo flute flow out its pneuma
While the moon from behind the temple is ascending!

Nikhil Parekh

Assemblage Of Heavenly Blue

The sky with its tinge of heavenly blue,
The sky which is coherent and true.
The sky so beautiful with its purplish face,
The sky that can conquer the human race.
The sky so sweet at lemonade,
The sky that can bring the earth an adolescent grade.
The sky that helps at the time of drought,
The sky that causes newborn seeds to sprout.
The sky that can bring crackling floods,
Doing so can shed a lot of blood.
The sky black and swollen near the river bank,
Hungry clusters of flower expecting all they can.
The drops of pelting water all hope for,
The sheets of rain showers already gone.
The sky with it protuberant legs stretched,
The sky that can get a house creshed.

C. P. Aboobacker


I am peeling the onion
The first layer is silver red
Ok, itís a pleasure to help her in the kitchen
An overburdened wife is a burden
With children ready to go to school
Myself ready for office

And I peel the onion
The aroma of her food is inviting
I peel the next layer of the onion
Layer after layer
Color fades
And turns white
A petrified sight
A beautiful morning

Eyes begin to dampen
Onions dampen my eyes

It's not easy to peel onions
A mastermind created every layer
Joined them together
With an art of nature
And with a care of the man
I go on peeling

Onion has a secret
It secretes dampness in eyes
Something to be sorry for
"Hey", she calls,
"What the hell are you doing?
Peel it, ya!"
Layers unfold
A manifold curiosity
Now! It is edible!
The tender innerself of the onion
I take it to my lips
To put it on my tongue

Kae Morii


On the snow in blue twilight
I put the moon

The iced your sleeping face
I shall sink it in snows
With your softness
With loneliness

Beside trees thick with snow
Recalling the time passed with you
Early evening in spring
Fregrance of rape blossoms

Even mountain ridge
As you looked dangerous
In the urban lonely pigeons are flying
You would still has stifled

Don't you smiled at your infant, yet?

Looking up
The finger of the tree with snow and ice


Where shall it become snow?

Ada Aharoni

Peace Is A Woman And A Mother

How do you know
peace is a woman?
I know, for
I met her yesterday
on my winding way
to the world's fare.
She had such a sorrowful face
just like a golden flower faded
before her prime.

I asked her why
she was so sad?
She told me her baby
was killed in Auschwitz,
her daughter in Hiroshima
and her sons in Vietnam,
Ireland, Israel, Palestine, Lebanon,
Bosnia, Rwanda and Chechnya.

All the rest of her children, she said,
are on the nuclear
black- list of the dead,
all the rest, unless
the whole world understands -
that peace is a woman

A thousand candles then lit
in her starry eyes, and I saw -
Peace is indeed a pregnant woman,
Peace is a mother.

Dorin Popa

A Letter In The Wind In Benumbed Weather

to run, to break my fetters
to smash the death
that seized me so
to make my way to you
my princess, my princess

I was still looking in the distance
I still believed that all
belongs to me
I was still swelling out my breast
happy to meet you
happy to touch you
when I heard already
my horses neighing
in nether world

I was still preparing myself to welcome you
I was still waving hung by the old mirror
when I was told that you had left

to make my way, now, near you
now, when you left, to hold and embrace you!
death chained me up so well
that I' m ashamed of crying even
my princess, my princess.

Joanne Olivieri

Seagulls At Night

A twilight canvas
barren of life
prelude to the masterpiece
hovers unseen
upon desolate skies
waiting to be fashioned.

Out of darkness
they emerge
white winged choreographers
painting circles and
breeding life.

Seagulls At Night soar,
a free form phenomenon.

Katy Kianush

The Ancient Heart

My ancient heart
has made a wondrous pearl
of the pains passed.

My mind, eagle - eyed,
flies high and sees all
the Darkness and the Light.

The breeze of My hands,
caresses the gentle Wombs
haping the mountains and the plains.

The notes of My thoughts
flow in the air,
embracing a few passing hearts,
and now fade away.

Joneve McCormick

The Visitor

Like rain dropping into the sea
like mist evaporating
when boundaries disappear
I grow larger and larger

The shape-shifter that sets me free
unveils what I hold too tightly,
lives behind my masks and in them,
in stones too, and mere words

Faithful as a rising sun
love appears dressed in light
to unite with me, to create new life,
when I am willing.

Dimitris P. Kraniotis


Noiseless wrinkles
on our forehead
the frontiers of history,
shed oblique glances
at Homer' s verses.
full of guilt
wounded whispers
that became echoes
in lighted caves
of the fools and the innocent.

Argo Spier

Carried Along

in the garden of love
and on the day of deliverance, frisky
the morning rose opens her pedals

in half-lit simmering of dawn
spreading her scent

now the night has died on the day
and it fell into its face
- my Mistress' toll is taken -

she started to decay
loosing her scent - grandeur -
and her majesty

the summer too will end
and the bleak debris of love
it'll wrinkle like waste

Rati Saxena

At The Last Moment

When words are stuck on lips
Thoughts get tired and put off / Then
There is no prayer and no complaint

Why don' t I keep today' s prayer
For the last moment?

Those bells were fake
That rang, Time to time
Ears became habitual
To hearing falsehood

What was truth?
What was false?
Now is the time
To start the journey again
What is the difference between
False and true?

Let me sing a false prayer
Prayer in dishonesty
And untruthfulness in honesty
Both mixed so much
Cannot pray for long

You closed the door
That opened toward the world
Now you can hit me
With all your bullets
Will you now squeeze me
To the last drop of blood?

Roger B. Humes

I Placed Stones In My Words

I placed stones in my words
and screamed at the ocean
until i could hear them whisper over the waves

I placed my soul in exile
and reached through the walls
to touch a world which wouldn't heed my thoughts

I placed my eyes in the garden
and learned to listen quietly
for the opening and closing of the dew glistened rose

I placed my feet upon a path
and realized that i could never turn back
until i could hear my words whisper over the waves

Elma D. Photikarm

Coffee? - Coffee.

I brewed it with love, showered with my kisses
And poured in a mint green Thai Celadon mug.
It settled there and gave me joy
in intervals of one minute sips
Oh, that the patch in rural northwestern
Guatemala far away would bring a yield
and serve me this - my perk, my morning
delight, my heart's desire.

And time could go on making me oblivious
to cares of day, find me dancing to music
I alone could hear.

I have to go on with my sips, get the best
from these, grab every precious moment
before aroma fades and cup turns lifeless cold
leaving only a bitter taste in lip-stained cup
where once the coffee was so good.

And so it is with feelings- nurture them
take your sips to savor all the best
there is in peace of mind and heart and soul.

And when you sink to all time lows
and sometimes hit rock bottom
Do not stay there, do not give up.
Learn to tread and float and tell yourself
it's time again to brew a fresh new pot.